


Joy burning bright

by whichstiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beach Vacation, Fluff, Flying, Honeymoon, M/M, i am OBSESSED, raises hand, the word cerulean is used, who needed something cheesy?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 22:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10448571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Dean picks up the daiquiri he's nestled into the sand and takes a long, cool sip. The drink is fruity and overly sweet and freezes his throat when he swallows it down. It's fucking perfect. It took a whole hell of a lot of credit card fraud and a tiny bit of blackmail, but he's managed to put together a damn fine trip, if he does say so himself.





	

The sea plane is banana yellow, a colorful smudge against the horizon. Dean shades his eyes and squints at it, tracking its flight against the cerulean sky. His stomach does a complicated set of sympathetic loop-de-loops as he watches its progress. He presses the phone to his ear and takes a deep, calming breath. _It'll be fine._

“So you told him there was a case?” Sam sounds amused and Dean imagines him leaning back in a library chair and grinning at the phone – which he's undoubtably holding a few inches from his chin. God forbid a phone should touch his ridiculously long hair.

“Yep.” The sand is hot so Dean burrows his toes under the surface to the cooler layer beneath. “Told him there was a ghost haunting that plane. And I can't check it out because...”

“Flying bad.” Sam chuckles. “Was he excited?”

“Trying not to show it.” Dean grins and wiggles his toes out of the sand, then tunnels them back in again. “Smiled like an idiot when he got on the stupid thing.”

“So what'll you tell him when he lands and there's no ghost?”

Dean shrugs. “Turns out it was just an urban legend. Worth checking out anyway. Blah blah blah. Gotta be thorough.”

Sam snorts. “Right. You really think he'll fall for that.”

“Please. I'm the best liar.”

“Uh huh.”

“My talent for lying is unparalleled.” Dean picks up the daiquiri he's nestled into the sand and takes a long, cool sip. The drink is fruity and overly sweet and freezes his throat when he swallows it down. It's fucking perfect. It took a whole hell of a lot of credit card fraud and a tiny bit of blackmail, but he's managed to put together a damn fine trip, if he does say so himself. He shades his eyes again. Does that speck of yellow look bigger? “Listen, Sam. Looks like they're heading back. I'm gonna go meet the plane.”

“Tell Cas I said 'hi'.”

“Will do. See ya next week, man.” Dean ends the call and drops his sunglasses back onto his nose before scooping up his drink and heading back towards the bay. After Cas lands maybe they'll do dinner. Or maybe they'll just go for a walk up to the sea cliff again. His feet slide and shift in the sand and a light breeze paints salty spray onto his legs. He finishes the drink as he nears the resort, drops it on one of the cabana stands, and picks up the pace. The plane flies lower as it approaches the bay, nose slightly up as it prepares to land. His gut doesn't settle until the pontoons land safely on the water and the plane trundles towards the shore.

When Cas jumps from the plane onto the dock Dean is there waiting. He rocks back on his heels, faux-casual with his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his shorts. Cas looks like he's just been soaking in sunshine. _There's so much joy rolling off of you_ , Dean thinks, _I gotta wear shades_. He smiles to himself and says instead, “So? Any luck?”

Cas scratches at his neck and crinkles his nose, turning to look back at the plane. “No, I detected no spirits.”

“Huh. Well, probably just a story the locals drummed up for business.” Dean shrugs. “Worth checking out just to be sure.”

Cas nods solemnly, though his eyes still crease at the corners. “Of course.”

“You have fun at least?”

“Oh yes.” Cas steps a little closer and tugs at Dean's elbow. Dean takes the hint and pulls his hand from his pocket, offering it up to Cas.

“Well. Shall we?”

Cas intertwines their fingers and together they walk off the dock, palms and shoulders warm where they touch. They stroll casually back towards the resort, back towards the beach. The island is gorgeous this time of day, the sun catching the trees and the distant mountain just right to bathe them in supersaturated emerald and teak. It's a last hurrah before the sun sets. Dean sighs and pulls away his hand so he can wind his arm around Cas's narrow waist instead. He twists his fingers in his old Metallica t-shirt (which looks fucking good on Cas) and asks, “What do you feel like doing now?”

“Hmm.” Cas snakes his arm around Dean and pulls him closer. “I think the word you're looking for is 'who'.”

Dean barks a laugh. “You cheesy fuck.” Their legs tangle and Dean swings them to a stop, leaning in to taste Cas's lips. Cas melts into the kiss, one warm hand spread wide between Dean's shoulders, his body pressing in.

When they pull away, Cas runs his tongue between his teeth. “You taste like strawberries. I like it.”

“Yeah, you do.” Dean nabs one more quick kiss before stepping back a little and drinking him in. Cas stands in front of him, lips parted, looking well fucked already from the plane ride messing up his hair. _Okay. Room service, it is._ He grins and takes Cas's hand again, tugging him towards the bungalows tucked behind the resort proper. Cas follows him.

When they get inside their room Dean heads straight for the bed but Cas pulls him back. “Wait.”

“I thought you said you wanted--” Dean takes a look at Cas and freezes at his suddenly serious face. “What's wrong?”

Cas lifts his fingers to gently trace along Dean's cheek, before brushing back again to slide into his hair. He holds him steady and stares until Dean begins to shift uncomfortably. Finally, he says in a low voice. “There was no ghost.”

“Yeah, I know, I--”

“The flight was wonderful. Fast and wild, the wind raking at my skin. My hair. Scouring tears from my eyes so it hurt to see sometimes.” He presses his forehead to Dean's. “Thank you for that. Thank you for...for everything.” Cas's breath ghosts along Dean's lips, feather light. “I know you don't like flying. But tonight I'm gonna make you feel what I feel when I fly.”

Dean tries to crack a joke. Old habits die hard, after all. But Cas overtakes him, a whirlwind tied into a fragile human shell. He surrounds and fills Dean, relentless and hard and gentle as the ocean.

The sun sets and the stars wheel over the bungalow on the windswept beach. Joy cracks Dean open until he feels as bright as angel light. The bungalow would be a tiny thing from the air but, with the two of them in it, Dean imagines it as a lighthouse beacon burning against the shadowed ground. He hums, exhausted and utterly sated, then picks up Castiel's hand with his own so their wedding rings roll together. “Love you.”

Cas tightens his grip. “And I you.”

The ocean's steady pulse lulls Dean to sleep and he dreams that night of flying. For once, he's not afraid.

**Author's Note:**

> Cheering myself up with schmoopy schmoop.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
